


Waiting Up

by CuriosityRedux



Series: Dragon Drabbles Berk [11]
Category: How to Train Your Dragon (Movies)
Genre: F/M, Hiccstrid - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-26
Updated: 2018-11-26
Packaged: 2019-08-29 21:58:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,193
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16752223
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CuriosityRedux/pseuds/CuriosityRedux
Summary: It's been a long battle, and all the soldiers have returned... except her husband.





	Waiting Up

**Waiting Up**

**-**

Berk’s Great Hall had become a hospital for injured Vikings and dragons alike. The warships had begun returning that morning, delivering weary and wounded warriors home, and still more were unloading.

“Dude. She’s huge.” Tuffnut made a quiet snort of tired amusement as his sister wrapped his dislocated shoulder in soft bandages. 

“She’s not huge, she’s pregnant,” Ruffnut muttered. Someone across the room called her name, and she shouted, “Give me five minutes with my twin, you inconsiderate shit-lickers!” before returning her attention to her brother’s arm. Her flat expression didn’t change at his pained grunts. “She’s not that much bigger than she was when you left.”

“Totally. She’s gonna go into labor like that.”

“Idiot.”

By ‘like that’, of course, Tuff meant the militant way the chief’s wife marched from bedside to bedside— checking on villagers, transporting supplies, snapping out orders while observing the more critical patients’ conditions. There was an air of tense anxiety pressing down on the room, punctuated by the chaos of reuniting family members and cries of distress or urgency. Astrid’s voice rose above it all. 

She directed healthy Vikings in and out. She distributed blankets and bandages and carried small children out of the way. Every now and then someone would touch her elbow or shoulder. Sometimes Valka, if she wasn’t seeing to an injured dragon, sometimes her own mother or another village woman. They’d tug her towards a pallet, try and get her to sit, but she wouldn’t rest for more than a few minutes before she was up and moving again.

There was a stress on her face. All the ships were accounted for, either docked or within sight. But nobody could account for the young chief or his head dragon-riders yet. Every now and then the Great Hall’s heavy doors would creak open, and Astrid would pause mid-order to glance over the newcomers. She grabbed onto someone every so often to ask for an update, but nobody was exactly sure what happened to Hiccup after they received the order to head home.

“Give me that,” Tuffnut grumbled at her, reaching out his good arm to steal the tray full of bowls of stew she carried. 

“I got it,” Astrid argued briefly. “Where’d your sister go?” Her eyes skimmed the crowd of people for a pair of blonde braids. 

“She’s off doing healery stuff,” he answered. “Give. I’m bored.” Using his hip to nudge her aside, he uneasily took the tray and balanced it against his shoulder. 

She sighed and shook out her tired arms. Her gaze didn’t meet his as she pushed back frizzy bangs and rested a hand against the small of her back. “The guys weren’t on your ship, were they?”

“Not for more than a few minutes at a time.” Tuff nodded at her rounded belly. “Shouldn’t you be knitting little flight suits or infant-proofing your weapon wall?”

“I can’t knit,” she spat almost bitterly, and then she was gone again. 

Afternoon faded into evening. Once the least serious of the injuries had been treated, villagers were able to take home their doctored warriors. The rush slowed to a quiet, uncomfortable pace. Ruffnut and Valka were still pulled from one bed to another with their various patients, but Astrid was finally bullied into a chair and forced to nurse a bowl of stew while she nervously surveyed the Great Hall. Murmurs of victory were traded back and forth. Still, the losses taken were significant, and it was difficult to celebrate with a roomful of wounded and a missing chief.

“How have not one of them been spotted yet?” she whispered to her mother, voice tight and nerves tighter. Accepting the mug of honeyed mead pressed into her hands, she took a sip and scratched absently at the splintering handle. 

“I’m sure they’re fine,” her mother replied in an attempt to be encouraging. “Your father said there wasn’t a scratch on him when he saw him last.”

A lot could change in a moment, though. Especially in a battle. She tapped her stubby nails against her mug and worried. 

It was still an hour later before the doors to the Great Hall burst open and a barking Night Fury came limping in. 

“Toothless!” Astrid flew to her feet, awkwardly running to meet the dragon despite the scolding of her mothers behind her. He whumped happily at the sight of her, meeting her halfway and covering her in slimy licks. Except for a gash on his foreleg— the source of his limp— and couple of abrasions here and there, he didn’t appear too banged up. She laughed breathily, tears of relief stinging her eyes. “Where’s your rider, huh? Where’s Hiccup?”

The Night Fury twisted and bobbed his head toward the open doors. Cold autumn air whipped inside, and she could make out the shadows of men climbing the stairs in the dark. 

“Hiccup?” she called out, squinting into the night.

“My wife!” a wonderfully familiar voice echoed back. “Eret, look, it’s my wife!” There was an odd slur to his words, but it was most definitely her husband. 

Snotlout stepped into the light first, sporting a bloodied lip and holding his helmet under his arm. He looked exhausted. “Ruffnut!” he yelled, cupping his hand around his mouth. “Your assistance is needed, my goddess of beauty and light!”

Astrid felt the smile fall from her face. 

“Don’t panic!” Fishlegs assured her, grunting a little. “He’s fine, he’s just a little… injured.”

Furrowing her brows, she stepped forward until she could see the three men still climbing the stairs. She would have run to her husband, if he wasn’t being supported by Eret and Legs on either side. He hopped slowly from one step to the next, steadied by his companions’ strength. 

Ruffnut blew past her, and then things were moving very quickly. Valka baited Toothless closer to the fire with treats. Astrid watched and gaped as her husband was all but dragged in and laid out on a bed. He seemed well enough, though his hands were covered in blood. Dust dirtied his face, and his flight suit was unbuckled and open to reveal the sweat drenching his shirt. But for the most part, he looked fine. 

The only cause for concern was the broken arrow protruding from his thigh. 

“How much have you given him?” Ruffnut asked, her voice tired and terse. 

“Much more than he probably needed,” Eret replied, unconcerned. Folding his arms over his chest, he shook his head at his chief and gave Astrid a gentle nudge with his elbow. “I’d watch out for a drinking problem with this one.”

Hiccup, it would seem, felt none of the steel and pine embedded in his flesh. His head rolled to the side as his eyes fixed blearily on her, and a crooked grin brightened his face. “Astrid!” he proclaimed. “Berk! How is Berk?”

Her legs still trembled from the relief of their arrival. Her heart was racing a little, and she could feel the little one inside of her stirring at the sudden excitement. Fishlegs edged out of the way so she could move closer and sit at her husband’s side. “Berk’s fine,” she answered with a weak smile. Pushing damp bangs out of his face, she tried to ignore Ruffnut’s mutterings on the opposite side of the bed. “Everyone else got here before you.”

“Some asshole  _shot_  me,” Hiccup told her, narrowing his eyes in almost comedic betrayal. To Ruffnut, he said, “Just take the whole leg this time. I’ll build a better one.”

"Oh don’t be dramatic,” she grumbled in return.

“They were probably aiming for Toothless,” Eret commented with a shrug. “We were on our way out when it happened. Someone trying to win a lost cause.”

Astrid swallowed down her concern for the time being. She’d spent hours waiting just to know if Hiccup was still alive— she’d wait for Ruff’s cue to start panicking. Finding his gloved hand resting on his stomach, she wrapped her fingers around it and brought it to her lips for a kiss. 

“At least it’s the left one,” she teased a little shakily. “I’m in no rush to have a completely bionic husband.”

“Think of the attachments, though,” he mumbled distractedly. 

“Okay, I’m about to pull the arrowhead,” Ruffnut announced. “There  _will_  be blood. If you’re not handing me towels or bearing his child, step away from the drunk chief.” Astrid felt the other woman’s breath on her hair as she added, “This isn’t exactly gonna be pleasant, so you might wanna show him your tits or something.”

Alarmed and slightly annoyed, Astrid tried to shift so Hiccup couldn’t see what his healer was doing. “Babe,” she swallowed, pressing fingertips into her stomach to find her shifting  son or daughter. Then she flattened his hand against the curve of her belly’s swell. “Hey. Feel.”

Of course, the minute she placed his hand there, the little one went still. She furrowed her brows, parting her lips to sigh, but then she felt an enthusiastic squirm from within. Hiccup’s eyes went wide. 

"Oh my gods!” he gasped, jaw dropping. “It’s moving! Holy—  _fuck_!” His exclamation turned pained at the wet noise of tearing flesh, and his fingers dug into her tunic. Astrid cringed sympathetically, gently squeezing Hiccup’s wrist. His expression of agony eased just barely, but his voice became a rough whimper. “Babyyy,” he crooned, jaw clenched and brow tight. His thumb stroked her pregnant belly as he stared. “Ahh, my Terrible Terror, that hurts.”

"More water,” she heard Ruffnut say. “I can’t see anything.”

“It’s been asleep most of the night,” Astrid told him, watching his face. “Just woke up when you arrived.”

“Really?” he rasped. Hiccup suddenly sounded far too sober for her liking. He winced. She wondered how much alcohol he was allowed to have. 

“He was obsessed with getting back before the ice set,” Eret chimed in, a looming, observant presence. “Wouldn’t shut up about arriving in time.”

“I wasn’t— wasn’t gonna miss meeting you.” He tilted his head towards her stomach, lowering his voice conspiratorially. “Your mom would’ve shot me herself.”

Mouth twitching upwards, she leaned closer and rubbed his laboring chest with affection. Sweat was beading on his forehead, and he kept swallowing hard. Her husband was good with pain, but she could tell he was struggling even with the liquor in his system. “Well, you made it with time to spare,” she murmured warmly. 

“Hiccup, I’m placing a moratorium on your obsession with tight pants,” Ruffnut growled. There was a ripping noise. “I’m about to cut these off and expose your dick to the whole village.”

“Just don’t cut the flight suit,” he groaned. Wetting his lips, he dragged his other hand over to Astrid’s knee. 

“Cut whatever you need to,” his wife corrected, shooting Ruff a flat look. If she was joking about Hiccup’s penis, though, things must not have been as dire as initially expected.

“Your mom’s so mean,” he whispered to her belly. 

And for reasons she was too overwhelmed to explain, tears rose to her eyes. It was the sight of her husband’s pained face and the tender way he was speaking to their child and the hours of waiting where she thought he might have been dead. It was the ache in her back and the throbbing of her feet and the exhaustion and the hormones. It was the nights of anxiety and the days of chaos and the moments in between where she was terrified that he  _wouldn’t_  make it home in time. She found herself sniffling and scrubbing wet streaks away from her cheeks with the back of her hand. 

Eret knelt by her side, sliding an arm around her back. “Astrid? You alright, love?”

She nodded and tried to blink back the sudden wave of tears. 

“She cries when she’s happy,” Hiccup sighed, though it sounded a little strained. 

Eret glanced at him for a second, unsure, then looked back up at her. “You sure? D’you need anything?”

Astrid shook her head this time. “I’m just really glad you’re all home,” she admitted with a pitifully watery voice.

Hiccup shifted, hissing when Ruffnut tightened her grip on his thigh. Still, he reached over and pressed his palms to either side of her swollen stomach. “You still there, my Terror?” At the sound of his voice, the little one flailed. A faint smile tugged at the corner of his ashen cheeks. “I told you I’d be back, right?”

She sniffed and wiped at her eyes. 

“Tell your mom to stop crying,” he continued, smoothing his hands in slow, unsteady circles. Blood was still dried in his knuckles, a new burn streaking down the side of his pinky. But they were familiar and gentle. “Tell her I’m not— not going anywhere until I get to hold you in my arms.”

Laughing a little, Astrid rested her own hand on top of her belly. “Tell your father he’ll have to take a bath first.”

Hiccup’s eyes flicked up to hers. “Tell your mom I love her.”

She laced her fingers with his. “Tell your dad I love him too.”


End file.
